Not So Golden Silence
by Hate Rabbit
Summary: Life has been rough for Harry Potter. Left mute from a curse by Lord Voldemort, Harry has struggled his way through Hogwarts. Now, as he prepares to graduate, he remembers the events in his life that made him who he is.
1. The Way Things Are

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it. Never have. Never will. Just borrowing likenesses for personal joy.

Harry Potter stood in front of the mirror taking in his own features. Lifting his chin he traced the lightning bolt shaped scar that sat in the middle of his throat.

It had been a parting gift from the Dark Lord Voldemort before the Killing curse rebounded off the Boy-Who-Lived and obliterated his body. It really was a shame that the bastard had refused to die and had been resurrected in his fourth year. It was also a shame that it had left him a mute Harry thought bitterly.

The curse left scar tissue that pressed against his vocal cords and hampered his breathing. Unfortunately the Healers had to take the cords to get to the scar tissue, rending him mute for life.

Letting out a light sigh, Harry thought it better to not dwell on things he couldn't change. Renewing his self assessment with his right arm, Harry fixed his gaze on the jagged scar circling his shoulder. Pain filled memories flowed as he remembered losing his arm in the final battle. Luck had been on his side and they had been able to reattach it shortly after the battle's conclusion. Death had been close all his life, but for the first time Harry had thought his time had been up when his arm had been torn off by another curse Voldemort had thrown his way.

Harry shook his head to clear it from the memories of the dark times that had passed. He continued looking at the various scars he had collected during his years at Hogwarts. Countless scars littered his body. Some of them from burns, some from curses, and a few from fist fights. Very few of the many scars could be claimed as accidental. Most had been from learning experiences in life. The ones on his knuckles brought back memories of his first year, and first encounter with Voldemort.

His first year with Voldemort taught him a lesson. He had no control. That Harry was a child fighting in a grown up world. That he could almost died in a fight he won by pure luck. In the hospital wing Harry broke down, from the feelings of fear, rage, and the pain he had felt when fighting Quirrel, and wept. After Harry came out of it, he resolved that he wouldn't ever let himself be weak. He would strive to have to strength to protect his friends and himself from Voldemort.

He had never been a slouch in his studies before, but the next year he redoubled his efforts. Being mute had drawbacks on his casting abilities. Having to start out silently casting in the magical world made even the simplest spell ten times harder, but Harry practiced until he got the spells perfect. He never was the first to cast it successfully. In fact, he was almost always last, but once he had the spell down flawlessly, it was incomparable to most other students in a range of years.

Voldemort's resurrection taught Harry his next lesson; that the body is fragile. Seeing another weakness in himself drove Harry to sculpt his body from what was a skinny boy into a six foot, thirteen stone, ball of hard muscle. Where he was once wiry and small he now stood lean and on the edge of stocky. And while hormones and physiology took most of the credit for his size, it was only accomplished through hard work. Every opportunity Harry had, he would help the Hogwarts Grounds Keeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Rubeus Hagrid, with odd jobs 

here and there. Moving animals and cages around, helping collect items in the Forbidden Forest, and other sorts of physical activities built him into a rough and physical man.

After the Department of Mysteries and the death of his godfather, Sirius, Harry was taught his third lesson; that the mind could be broken and taken. To his credit Harry took to Occulemency rather quickly. Ecstatic that he had found a branch of magic that didn't require silent casting, Harry was able to fortify his mind well enough to buy some time by his seventeenth birthday.

Brought back to the world of the living by the soft snoring of his roommates, Harry scratched his head. A blast of fire in the final battle had taken enough off that Harry decided to keep it short. Rubbing his tired face, Harry took a final glance his nude form in the mirror, and walked back to his bed.

Smirking at the form lying on his bed as she breathed lightly in and out, Harry gave her a small shake. The brunette let out a small groan and then continued to sleep. After a couple more shakes with the same results, Harry let out a slight huff, and yanked the covers off the girl. Still nothing happened. Now thoroughly annoyed with the girl that could sleep through an act of God, Harry took one glance at the pert little bottom and delivered a sharp slap to one of her cheeks.

The tan skinned brunette let out a yelp and promptly fell out of bed.

As the girl rose she rubbed her abused rump. "Ow. What did you do that for, Harry? I'm not up for another round. Why couldn't you let me sleep?" Still in the tired haze of being awakened abruptly, the girl didn't notice that her shout had roused the rest of the room's occupants.

Harry calmly pointed to the clock and jabbed a thumb at the door.

Realization dawned on the girl and she let out a squeak and hurriedly tried to pull on her clothes.

"Hey, Su Li, nice tits!" A voice called out as she was buttoning her pants.

Flushing the Ravenclaw clutched her shirt to her chest and sprinted out the boy's dormitory, with the sound of laughter and catcalls chasing after her.

The laughter died down and as Harry was climbing into his bed he heard Ernie MacMillan ask, "Hey Potter, was that a hand print on Su Li's ass?"

Giving a smile and a nod in the affirmative, Harry settled back into the sheets. As he drifted off to sleep he couldn't help hear a conversation.

"He's had it pretty rough, but who wouldn't want to be Harry Potter, twin to the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Letting out a snort of disdain, Harry rolled over. And as he fell asleep he sarcastically thought, _'Who indeed?'_

Sunlight shone directly on Harry's face causing him to throw an arm over his eyes to block the assault on his bodies much needed rest. Wiping a hand across his face to sweep the last remnant of sleep away, Harry swung his feet off the bed. Stretching his chest until he heard a series of pops that released a pressure in his back, Harry pushed off of the bed and started toward the loo. Scratching himself, Harry stepped into his shower stall and started the water. Letting the water fall over him, Harry rubbed his reattached arm. Phantom pangs rocked through it every once in a while, and as Harry watched the arm's muscles lightly spasm, a memory had him break out into a grin. He didn't have a clue why he had thought of it, but watching his wand arm brought back the memory of a second year's innocent question.

"H-Harry Pot-tt-ter, sir?" A small second year asked as he sat timidly in front of Harry.

Finishing his bite, Harry turned a questioning gaze towards the tiny boy.

Looking towards his friends the second year gathered his courage. "How did you get such big muscles?"

Grinning to his friends before turning back to the boy sitting in front of him, Harry simply raised his hand and closed his as if holding a goblet. The boy watched mesmerized as Harry moved his hand in a jerking motion.

After a few motions, Harry went back to eating his breakfast.

"That's it?" The second year questioned skeptically. "That's all it takes to get all big and muscely like you?"

"Of course it isn't. It takes years of practice to get that good. Thrice a day, right before meals and soon you'll be on your way to being as big as Harry. Maybe even bigger. Potter here didn't start 'practicing' till last year. It's how he got so good with his wandwork also. Hell, it's the secret practice all the greats use. How do you think Dumbledore got to be such a great wizard?" Ernie MacMillan responded to the boy.

Wide eyed the boy turned and look at the Headmaster, who, to the fortune of the sixth year boys, was presently stroking his beard while talking. Turning back quickly the small boy excitedly rushed out a thank you to Harry and ran off to his friends and promptly showed them the technique to grow big and strong.

Upon seeing the naïve boy demonstrate the motions, the elder Hufflepuffs erupted in laughter.

Their laughter only multiplied when the Head of House, Pomona Sprout, caught sight of the set of boys making the crude gesture in the air. With a scandalized look, she set out to stop the boys' actions.

Taking the professor's distress as his cue to leave, Harry took a roll smothered in jam and walked out with a few of his friends following.

A petite red head matched his stride.

_'Check that a petite red head with a nice set on her. Sweet Merlin, at least the girl would never have to worry about drowning.' _Harry thought to himself as he glanced at the girl.

"You're just terrible, Harry Potter. Whatever will we do with to straighten you out?" Susan Bones questioned Harry as she giggled.

Harry stopped and looked Susan in the eyes. Raising an eyebrow in a silent question, Harry soon found his answer. Flushed features, generous amounts of cleavage, and small bumps straining against soft fabric were a fairly good tip off of what she was imagining to 'straighten him out' so to speak. A jerk of the head and she took a hold of his proffered arm and they were off to the dorms, leaving the rest behind as they raced to more private quarters.

A quick change to cold water, and Harry brought himself out of his memory. _'Don't have time to think about that right now, best be off Harry.'_

Dressing in grey slacks, Harry sat down to put on his good black shoes. Normally he wouldn't bother taking the time to do everything himself. He usually just magicked everything to be just right, but for some reason he felt like today would be a good day to take the time to do it himself. After putting on the rest of the uniform, Harry made his way down to breakfast in the Great Hall.

Harry never expected the attack to come from right in front of the doorway to the hall.

Pushed forward and bent over, Harry found himself in a headlock. The man squeezed relentlessly and Harry could feel the beginnings of unconsciousness creeping up on him. In a quick succession of motions Harry moved so his knees were under his chest and pulled on the legs of attacker, picking him up. Positioning his head to where his ear lay firmly in the man's belly Harry ran forward and slammed them both into the wall.

The force of the blow loosened the attacker's grip enough to where Harry could slip his head out. Letting the man drop to the ground, Harry gathered himself and punched the assailant in the stomach. Receiving a satisfying 'Oomph', Harry pushed the man away, and jumped back to discover who would blatantly assault him in front of the Great Hall.

Turning to face Harry, the attacker withdrew his wand while holding his stomach with the other hand.

Recognizing the face in an instant, Harry scowled and pulled out his wand.

_'That cunt! It fucking figures that he would do something like that today.'_ Harry furiously thought.

Opposite Harry stood an almost mirror image of himself. Only about two stone lighter, longer hair, and a lightning bolt scar crossing from his brow to under his right eye.

Flicking his wand in an annoyed manner, red letters flashed in the air, "Good morning, Thomas."


	2. Brothers Who Work Together

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Never will be. No personal gain aside from e-peen growth.

Thomas Evan Potter stood scowling, lightly rubbing his stomach, in front of Harry. Without warning he smiled. "You should see the look on your face right now. You were all like, 'I'm gonna kill that mother fucker!', and now you're acting all pissy. You're so mad; you won't even talk to me. You're using faggy letters, again."

Harry gave a grunt of distaste and put his wand away. Brushing himself off, Harry straightened his ruffled clothing before grabbing his bag and giving his brother an impatient glance as if to say, "Well? Are we just going to stand here all day?"

With a smirk glued to his face Thomas again baited Harry. "We can't go in yet. Not until you talk to me like a good brother should."

Sighing, Harry extended a middle finger. He pulled his hand back and made a few more motions.

To which Thomas replied, "Much better. Let's go I'm starving."

Laughing Thomas opened the door and slung his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Have you decided what we're doing after graduation? Do we tour the other European countries, or are we going to one of the colonies? You know I've always been partial to France after the Triwizard Tourney and the pretty little bird that came along with it? You think we'd run into her at Paris? What was her name again?"

Shaking his head in bemusement, Harry smiled as his brother rambled on. Thomas always had a way to get under his skin, annoy the piss out of him, and minutes later have Harry smiling and playing along.

One might think that Harry was bitter that he was only the brother to the Boy-Who-Lived, or that he was abused and neglected by his parents because of said brothers status, but truth be told, it wasn't that way at all.

The Potters were kind, responsible, Light aligned parents. Deep down James and Lily Potter probably favored Thomas over Harry, but they never consciously slighted the boy in favor of the famous brother.

Thomas was almost a replica of James in attitude. Boyish and always looking for mischief, but he had knack for potions like his mother. The fact that he was naturally good at potions bothered the Potions Master, Severus Snape, to no end.

The two were true brothers. Thick as thieves, and always together, were Harry and Thomas. What one did the other would soon follow. Thomas had even learnt to sign alongside Harry. They had transformed Harry's lack of vocal speech into their own familial language. They still would speak to Harry, and instead of using parchment, oftentimes a long and laborious action, Harry would respond using his hands.

When Harry had learned how to magic words into the air, he'd been ecstatic. To him it finally felt as if he had a voice. Conversations between friends flowed easily, as they no longer had to wait for Harry's written response. Their friends had picked up on a few hand gestures, but Harry couldn't blame them for not learning.

To Harry's surprise though, Thomas hated the magic letters. He refused to talk to Harry until Harry consented and put up his wand to talk.

"The letters are too impersonal. Everyone will be able to read what you're talking about, Harry. It won't do us any good if we've pulled a prank and they see you talking about it." Thomas reasoned, though Harry suspected it was because Thomas was jealous that he wasn't the only one that could understand when Harry "spoke."

"Hey! Come back, you're drifting away in the clouds." Harry heard Thomas say.

Looking to Thomas, Harry gave a sheepish grin and apologized.

"No problem. We have more than enough time to figure out where the prettiest girls are in different countries. Hey, I've got to go to Herbology early. Hurry up and finish so you won't be late to your class." Thomas spouted as he rose to leave.

Shooting him an irritated look, Harry moved his hands about.

Grinning, Thomas reached over and pinched his cheek. "Now, now Harry, what would mother say if she saw you say those words. Look at it this way; if the older brother isn't responsible, then it's up to the little one to pick up the slack."

Slapping his hand away, Harry waved him off and looked at his plate. A look of confusion passed over his face, and he scratched his jaw.

"When the hell did I get to the table and eat all this stuff? I guess I really was lost in thought. Wait. Thomas only leaves for class until the last minute."

Eyes wide, Harry glanced at his watch.

"Shit! Where's my bag? Damn it Thomas! Great, now McGonagall's going to have my ass for being late and to top it all off, he took my bag! Going to have to tell Ginny Thomas likes her again. That'll serve him right for the mess he caused this morning. Heh."

Grabbing an apple, Harry quickly left the table and made his way towards Transfiguration.

After the slight tongue lashing and disapproving looks, Harry took his seat. He didn't really mind it. McGonagall was tough but fair. Some might have gotten angry over the treatment and argued about how they should be treated as adults and equals at this point in their education. Harry didn't really see the point in getting angry or embarrassed.

"She'd have dressed down anyone who had walked through her doors late and without supplies on top of it all. At least she let me come in. Who knows, maybe she has a soft spot for a Potter?"

Borrowing paper and a quill quietly, Harry concentrated in on the lesson.

"Just reviews for NEWTS. Thanks the stars! This close to the end and she was still having us learn different Human transfiguration spells. I'd have been proper fucked if I actually had more than the core classes to study for. I should probably thank McGonagall for the suggestion back in third year. Time turner or not, she was right when she said I should focus on the basic education. Still can't believe the Granger girl was able to pull that off for an entire year. Too much shit could've happened with one of those in my hands."

Sighing in relief when the class let out Harry made his way to his next and last class of the day, Potions.

Harry loathed Potions class with his entire being. His entire career at Hogwarts had been tainted by his father's school time nemesis, Severus Snape. While he had never been like Thomas or Lily in Potions, he had at least been adequate. But the man would harp on him for petty acts of revenge against his father. The man's hate and desire for revenge hadn't been slated until sixth year.

Unconsciously clenching his fists at the storm of emotions and memories the dungeons had brought back, Harry made his way through the halls.

"Snape."

Even now, rage boiled in Harry's stomach at the thought of the man. Passing a little alcove, Harry lost himself to the memories that specific spot held.

--

Harry waited anxiously in the dark hallway. Footsteps echoed against the walls announcing the presence of an authority figure. A quick rustle of parchment and Thomas let out a confirmation before ducking under the cloak and out into the hall.

Thomas stared at the tapestry on the wall, willing his nerves under control as the footsteps ended about five meters away.

"Potter. That will be twenty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention for being out at night. Come with me." Snape sneered out.

Turning to the professor, Thomas adopted a smile on his face. "I'm sorry professor; I had some urgent news to talk to you about. The trip to Professor McGonagall will have to wait, I'm afraid." Thomas retorted cheekily.

Scowling, Snape stalked up to the Boy-who-lived.

Harry struck as Snape was reaching out to Thomas. He kicked out at the back of his knees, toppling the man. In a second Harry was on him wrestling the wand away from the potions master. Slamming his wrist on the ground, Harry forced Snape to drop his wand. Jumping off Snape, he watched Thomas bind the man with a spell.

"What are you and your equally stupid brother doing? I'll finally have the both of you expelled! Fools. What were you thinking when you attacked a professor?" Snape shouted.

A silencing spell stopped any further protestations. Using the silence, they made their way to an empty and unused room.

"You'll have to forgive us professor. It was a very trying week for us both. What with the attack and all. Did you see us there? We weren't supposed to be there to help the Order, but you know us. We can't help but think we're above the rules." Thomas asked, his eyes betraying the cheery tone of voice. "Harry saw you there. Did you know that too? He saw you right after you killed a man in battle. You should really look into applying a sticking charm to your mask when you fight professor."

The blood drained from Snape's face. He struggled against the bonds and shook his head violently in denial.

"Oh you weren't there? Harry was seeing things, you say? Well he does wear glasses, so we'll give you the benefit of the doubt. We'll just use some Veritaserum. That way we won't have any doubts to your innocence. So, how about it?" Thomas continued in his light tone.

Snape's efforts to break the magic bonds increased, and sweat began to form as his eyes darted around looking for help.

Producing a vial of the truth potion, Thomas tried to get the captive man to take a swig. Unable to get the man to drink, Thomas looked to Harry.

Nodding in understanding, Harry pulled out a matchstick as well as his wand. Transfiguring the matchstick into a metal Beaters bat in front of Snape, Harry picked it up and stood in front of the man. Intangible fury full on his face, Harry swung at Snape's mouth

A sharp crack and a dribble of blood left the Potions professor missing his front set of teeth.

"Now we'll try again." Thomas commented as he tipped the bottles contents down the man's throat.

Holding the man's nose and chin up, they waited until the professor swallowed. "Stronger locking charms on your more precious potions would have been a good idea professor. Sorry we used all the Veritaserum. Only three drops is necessary, but we felt that it would be a good idea to make sure you had strong enough dosage."

"We've done some terrible things, Harry and I. We caught McNair awhile back. Dumb brute, if you ask me. Not really all that cunning and witty like you professor. He wouldn't have been able to walk after we got a hold of him, even if he'd seen a healer. Take a lesson from McNair though. The truth will set you free. You won't have to go through what he did if you do right by us."

"That means we wouldn't use Occulemency, professor." Thomas said thumping Snape's forehead. "I can already see you putting your defenses together, sir. I can see why you didn't want to train us in the art. Never the less I believe it's time we started. If you're even half as dumb as McNair then we've got a long night ahead of us, sir."

"Now, would you kindly tell us what happened at the attack last week?" Thomas asked.

--

Shaking his head, Harry leaned against the corridors wall. He didn't want to think about it. What the man had done during both wars had been atrocious and vile. But even more so, Harry didn't want to think about it because subconsciously he would compare the acts he had committed during the war. Instead he let his thoughts drift to the morning after they tortured Professor Snape.

--

Shortly after the interrogation, they made their way to Dumbledore's office. They offered the previous night's occurrences of what they had learned to the wizened Headmaster.

Taking their memories and watching them in his pensieve, Dumbledore came out grey and weary.

"It saddens me to think that I have failed Severus, and you boys so greatly. I truly thought he had changed. Take me to see him. I must deal with this matter, myself." Dumbledore tiredly spoke.

"That won't be necessary Headmaster." Thomas replied.

"What do you mean Thomas. Where is Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

A thump at his desk and Dumbledore turned his gaze to the other Potter brother. His hand was resting on a round shape covered in a burlap sack.

A few flicks and Harry answered Dumbldore's question in red letters.

"He took our father, so I took the bastards head."


End file.
